At home here
by Ky03elk
Summary: Based in a world where there was no Caskett doorway scene at the end of Always. Instead, that night ended with friendship and John Woo movies. Would Meredith's visit during Alexis' illness push Castle and Beckett together or break them apart for good? Winter Ficathon 13/14. Prompt one.
1. Chapter 1

**At home here**

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_Based in a world where there was no Caskett doorway scene at the end of Always. _

_Instead, that night ended with friendship and John Woo movies. _

_Would Meredith's visit during Alexis' illness push Castle and Beckett together or break them apart for good? _

_Winter Ficathon 13/14. Prompt one. 15,000 words by the end of January_

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**Happy birthday Louise, may the year bring all that you desire xoxo**

**Thank you for being you and for the prompt/concept of this story ;-)**

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_She awoke with a start. The bed beside her was cold, the room still dark save for the soft glow of the street light filtering in through the window as it reflected off of the steadily falling snow. _

Kate's fingers ghost across her sheets, searching for a memory, a vision that haunts her dreams.

Too many nights she has found herself in this position; yearning for his touch, his skin pressed against her own; wanting him.

Her head thumps into the pillow as she falls back, the long length of her dark hair a sharp contrast to the crisp white of her sheets. They're not her favorite, reminding her of days spent in the ICU, but she's reluctant to throw them away for that reason alone. Somehow it would be a sign of weakness, even if she was the only one who knew.

Thinking of her time in the hospital becomes tangled with thoughts of him; two pieces of her life that will be forever knotted together.

There are so many what-ifs that surround them. So many times where just one choice could have created a vastly different world. If she could have only been a little braver, if she could have only said what was in her heart.

Turning onto her side, Kate slides her fingers beneath the pink sweatshirt that she'd pulled on before retiring for the night. Tracing the ridges of her scar, the small circle of puckered skin, she wonders what would have happened if she had stayed in the city that summer.

Or maybe if she had approached him after the bank heist, after the bomb had exploded; she had, after all, raced in there prepared to confess her sins if it meant that he was still alive to hear them. Yet in the time that it took for them to be interrupted she had lost her nerve, and her chance.

Still there may have been a possibility for more when she showed up at the loft, ringlets of wet hair clinging to her skin, the realization that she wanted him, just him. What could they be now, if instead of exchanging apologies on the couch, they had taken that last step, kicked over that last brick that was keeping them apart?

Kate moves against the chilled sheets, her hand reaching to throw a pillow over her head and she groans in frustration over the late hour. Over her thoughts.

She had really hoped that by now, with the New Year just a few days in, that they would be something more; that their partnership would have become a relationship. Something real, honest, rather than feelings denied, with secrets and half-truths of the past.

She had hoped that they would have confronted the_ "I love you" _head on instead of choosing to take the safer road.

That night, with a John Woo movie playing in the background, they had decided that they needed to make peace with the lies they had both told, before they could think of taking the next step.

Yet nothing _has_ come next.

If 2012 isn't to be their year, she can only hope that 2013 is; that they'll move on to new milestones, rather than continuing the constant treading of water that they do each day.

Each day is the same and it's slowly becoming stale; they are slowly drifting apart rather than coming together as one.

Flinging back the comforter, her thoughts swirl faster, a continuous loop steadily building, the pressure rising, pushing against the skin between her eyebrows. There's a need to move, to create some space between her and the empty bed that mocks her.

Shivering in the cool air, she stands and inhales deeply, lets the icy air prickle her skin. Shuffling past her robe, the cold edge dampening the fire that her latest dream has evoked, she makes her way into the kitchen.

Opening the fridge door, the low light casts shadows across the surfaces of her apartment and it catches her attention. It causes her to stare vaguely, hypnotized by play of light and dark. Finally shutting the door, she takes away the source and the room is thrown into a heavy abyss; becomes as dark as her mood.

It's that time of year, she knows that; knows that even the smallest changes are irritating her. Yesterday she'd gotten notice of evacuation from her building's super, stating that the pest controllers were due and she would be required to move out for a couple of days. It has her more agitated than is actually necessary. It's hardly the end of the world, could actually have a small silver lining somewhere.

But for now it's being ignored; she will deal with it tomorrow.

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He watches her, the way the pen is thrown against the desk, the papers slammed into a folder, the keyboard struck sharply as if it has affronted her somehow, and he quickly recaps the last couple of weeks to try and work it out.

Christmas had passed quietly; he knew she had covered somebody else's shift, had worked all night in spite his offer to play host. The New Year had disappeared without much pomp and ceremony, and now January has begun he can't help but wonder if the approach of January Ninth is having an effect.

She's never mentioned it before, gone through the anniversary without a word to him. But he assumes there are lots of things that he's not privy to.

His fingers drum the edge of his armrest, a constant flowing motion, while his head tilts slightly to the left. He attempts to see her thoughts by studying her body language; she is an open book, _sometimes, _and when he reads her well, it's a glorious fluttering of pages. Unfortunately, lines wrinkle across her forehead, her eyebrows trying to meet in the middle, and she is gnawing her thumb. This all suggests something messy is happening in her life, and he just can't let it go.

"Did you know that when stress chemicals move through your bloodstream for a prolonged duration, they have a toxic effect on your glands and organs, making them weak and less efficient?"

Her thumb leaves her mouth, brushing past the full lips he fantasizes trapping between his own... How his teeth would scrape across the tender flesh until she moaned, loud and carefree.

He's forced to shift in his seat, uncomfortable at where his mind drifted, and he studies how her hands grip the phone now; a slight trace of moisture clinging to the curve of her thumb as it scrolls through the message she just received. Whatever the news is, it's only adding to her stress, the device dumped without care onto her desk, and he tries again.

"Did you know that headaches, weakness, trembling, and back pain are common among people who have a habit of worrying constantly? Also, worriers often become insomniacs."

He at least gets a snort of annoyance this time around and it's a small acknowledgment of his words, but he's willing to take it.

Her arms lift, crossing above her head as she arches back slightly in her chair, her eyes wearily resting on him, as he finally succeeds in getting a response.

"That's not the reason I can't sleep. And anyhow, what makes you think I'm worrying?"

He dramatically raises both eyebrows, his mouth forming a large O on purpose, while giving her his best skeptical stare.

"Seriously, everything about you at the moment screams it."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously!"

She brushes a hand over her face in reply, hiding herself away from his prying eyes, but he waits. For the last month, the last year, he has been waiting; locked in a holding pattern that has become their new norm, and he doesn't know how to get them out of it. How to start writing their story again without rehashing over past actions, past mistakes.

He wants to start a new chapter that has them moving forward, has them letting go of what's happened so that they can be more, he just needs to get his foot in the door somehow.

"My apartment's being fumigated and I have to stay somewhere else for a few days, but everything I can afford is booked out for the holidays."

Her words are muffled through her hands, but he hears all he needs to.

"Well, then you'll stay with us again."

"Castle, I can't impose on you. Alexis is home for the Christmas break, and I'm sure Martha has big plans."

"Beckett, you, of all people are not imposing. You've stayed with us before without a problem. And anyhow, Alexis is due to fly out to Paris with Meredith and Mother has big plans every other day, so that's hardly an excuse."

This could be it, the opening he has been waiting for. To get her under his roof, show her all that she could be missing. Twenty-four-seven; a foreshadowing of the way their lives could be together.

"Castle-"

"No. You need a room, and I have a spare. End of discussion, Beckett."

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This will be about ten chapters long

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Thank you to Jo for the beta and the beautiful cover art that adorns this and my twitter profile ;-) and to Trish for the edit xoxo

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Thoughts are appreciated


	2. Chapter 2

**At home here**

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Thank you to everyone that reviewed, each one brings a smile to my face which has been very much needed this week xoxo

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Emptying his daughter's cup into the sink, Castle rinses it and places it in the dishwasher. His eyes travel over the surface of the counter, ensuring that everything is clean, sparkling, and ready for Beckett's arrival any minute now.

He has such high hopes for the next couple of days and he wants everything to be perfect. In his head, he has written and rewritten how this could all play out. It has been such a long few months, and an even longer five years.

He has this sense that this is going to be their do or die moment, the chance to finally take the plunge and be more, or to admit that they need to cut their losses and move on.

He really doesn't want to entertain the second notion.

He shakes his head. What he needs to be able to do is form an internal sentence that isn't cliché.

"Richard?"

He worries that all the stress of late – last year's close call with Tyson, the evil shadow that dances in the corner of his eye – is beginning to take a toll on his writing. He questions whether Nikki will still hold his attention if he is forced to walk away from Kate.

"Richard!"

The pull of his mother's voice sharpens his focus and he pushes the what-ifs aside. What he needs to do is concentrate on showing Beckett everything that she's missing, show her all that they could be. He has such an amazing opportunity to woo her while they are under the same roof, and he doesn't want to screw up a second of it.

"_What_?" he singsongs in reply to the incessant name calling.

Realizing that his mother is standing at the door, no doubt welcoming his partner in, a smile automatically graces his features, his step a little lighter as he moves toward her, the excitement already causing his heart to flutter faster.

"Your ex-wife is here!"

Huh? Wait? What? Oh, this can't be good.

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Pulling her case along behind her as she exits the elevator, Kate readies herself, repeats the mantra that has been playing in her head since she had begun packing.

She's done this before; has stayed at his place without incident. She can do it again.

And she can't help but wonder if that's the problem. Within weeks of her last stay at the loft things had begun unravelling between the two of them until they had eventually imploded; disintegrating until there was nothing left but goodbyes and empty promises of seeing each other in the fall.

This time she almost believes there is a sense of foreboding to her visit; that it will either break them or make them. And while she knows where she stands, she is at a loss as to what is going on in her partner's mind of late. She has the feeling that he is readying himself to move on, a very real threat that continues to haunt her.

"Beck– Kate!"

Her head snaps up; realizes that while lost in her own thoughts she's made it to his front door, which is wide open, apparently awaiting her arrival, and she is taken aback as Castle launches himself at her, arms wrapping tightly around her body to the point where she's unable to move.

"Castle, wh-"

"You're here. Ready to move in, here, with me. It will be just like the trial run we've been talking about."

His eyes dance wildly, panic rolling off him in waves.

"Castle, wh-"

His mouth unexpectedly closes over her own, swallows the question she again tries to ask. His lips, full and heavy, nudge hers apart, seeking entrance. Castle's firm hands shift, gripping strong on to her hips, dragging them into his, and her every thought disappears with the moan that's released, the slight sound of desire that gives her secret away.

How much she is enjoying this; enjoying him. She's kissing Castle.

_She's kissing Castle!_

Twisting her head to the side, she painfully separates them- why is she separating them? And he takes the opportunity to whisper frantically into the ear.

"Just go along with what I say. _Please_."

His _please_ is an all-encompassing plea, the closest she's seen him to begging, and concern adorns her features; the skin of her forehead crinkling, her lips narrowing, as she lifts a hand to the side of his face. What in the world has caused the man to kiss her like that in the middle of his entry way? What in the world would have caused him to kiss her at all?

"Richard, Kitten, let the poor girl in. The neighbors don't need the show."

Oh. Shit.

Her breath trips in halted gasps, as she attempts to compose herself, but her hips are still contained in the warmth of his hands, and it's spreading like wildfire, crisscrossing currents of electricity that have her aching for him to inch them lower.

Except of course for the fact that there are currently three red heads staring at them, eyes wide in surprise, and only one of them appears happy about what they've just witnessed.

Kate has no idea what she's just walked into, but something tells her that her biggest concern is no longer if their partnership will survive this; it's whether _she_ will.

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"I can't believe you said yes, Castle. I can't believe you said that we're together!"

"What was I supposed to say? She was there and all, '_I can stay __here__, it'll be just like old times'_, and then you were there and…"

She stumbles against the concrete beneath her feet, the walk to the crime scene seems longer than normal, although she was more than a little grateful for the abrupt interruption to her arrival at the loft, and she steadies herself, directs her attention back to her tirade.

"And what, you thought an answer to your solution was to grab me and _kiss_ me in front of them all?"

"Well, I just thought that if I explained to Meredith that you were staying with me, that we were together, then she would leave and find a hotel."

"And tell me, Castle, how did that little plan work out for you?"

Throwing him the look, _her look_, she pulls ahead of her partner, leaves him mumbling under his breath that she was there and she knows exactly how badly his on-the-spot idea had panned out.

Not only is Meredith now under the assumption that she is with Castle, his ex-wife is also now staying in the spare bedroom. The bedroom _she _was supposed to be sleeping in, and shaking her head in an attempt to loosen the prevailing thunder that's clouding her mood, she greets Lanie.

"Good morning." Squatting down next to the medical examiner, Kate receives a raised eyebrow of skepticism.

"Not from the way you sound. What's wrong?"

"Men are clueless."

"Men? Or just Castle? Don't tell me you've been under the same roof for barely a morning, girl, and you're already fighting?"

Seeing the man in question through the open car doors, Beckett throws him glare, a little head tilt, and he seems to take her prompt to mean that he should explain the situation to Lanie.

"Things may have become a little complicated this morning."

"A little?" Her sarcasm drips.

"Fine. _A lot_." He turns his puppy dog eyes toward Lanie; as though the good doctor will be more merciful than she was, as though _he_ is the victim in all this. "Before Beckett arrived, Meredith showed up at the loft. Since Alexis has mono and can't go to Paris, she thought she would bring Paris to her."

Lanie throws a shocked glance her way and Kate raises her hand, indicates for Castle to continue.

"And she announced that she was staying, had me bringing all her luggage inside while making remarks about how it was _soooo good_ to have us all under the same roof again, and then Beckett arrived and…"

Kate almost feels sorry for Lanie, the poor girl's head is darting back and forth. If she's not careful, she's going to end up with whiplash.

"And…" Beckett pressures.

"And I may have implied that Beckett and I are a couple, but Meredith didn't seem to care, just went on about wanting to be a good mother, and wanting to make up for her past mistakes, and what was I supposed to do?"

His pleading eyes find hers and she's still cranky, although if she's being honest with herself she doesn't know why. It's not like she didn't enjoy the kiss, the man knows how to get her all riled up with just his mouth. Granted it's their second time, but both were done while under a ruse, and she wonders if that means they actually count.

And it's not like she isn't a little bit thrilled at the idea that he was so determined to get his ex-wife out of his apartment that he had gone a little crazy with his scheming. It's just that now she has to pretend to be with him, when all she wants is, well, to _be_ with him.

"Well," Lanie sighs, "No matter how miserable your day is, it's not as bad as Michelle Twohey's."

Kate turns toward the body; Lanie's right, things could be a whole lot worse.

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Thank you again for all the love, favourites and followers xoxo

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And to Jo and Trish for making me make sense in spite the bout of flu that's killing me!

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Thoughts are appreciated


	3. Chapter 3

**At home here**

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_Any of the scenes from the show that involved them 'being together' are altered to fit in with the storyline- not being together-_

_the rest of the episode (and the characters) work around this story unchanged._

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Taking a deep breath, Kate pauses. The morgue's double doors stand closed and she can't bring herself to push through them. She knows that is Lanie waiting for her on the other side, and while the M.D. was willing to settle for pointed looks at the crime scene, Kate knows that she's going to be greeted with a very different conversation upon entering.

But she also needs a lead.

The victim's boyfriend knew next to nothing about the lawyer's work or who could have killed her; was unable to identify who might have fled the crime scene. The boys are chasing the ex-husband angle, because men are known do stupid things when it comes to their ex-wives; she's currently now exhibit A.

Which brings her full circle as to why she is standing, afraid to face her friend. Castle is off taking care of the deception; setting the record straight with Meredith. _Hopefully _explaining that they are not actually together and that the red head needs to find a hotel so that she can have the guest bedroom tonight.

And his exit leaves her alone to deal with the fallout that Lanie is no doubt about to rain down on her.

"Katherine Beckett, get your ass in here and explain to me what in the world is going through that head of yours!"

Apparently hiding behind doors with windows in them is a little pointless. Taking another deep breath she enters, faces Lanie across from Michelle's body. How bad could this be?

"Yes, Lanie? What do you have for me?"

"Oh, no, you don't. You're not going to walk in here and start talking shop when there are much bigger issues that need to be resolved first."

There's a look of utter indignation splashed across Lanie's features; eyes wide, head tilted, her finger already raised and pointed. Each word is emphasized with a jab in her direction and Kate reminds herself not to take a step back. Lanie can smell fear.

"It's nothing, Lanie. Or it won't be, once Castle sets the record straight. He's there now-"

"What!" Black hair shakes violently as Lanie throws her whole body behind the exclamation. "Why in the world would you let him go back and face his ex, alone?!"

"_Lanie-_"

"No, don't _Lanie_, me. This is Meredith we're talking about, the Deep Fried Twinkie that Castle has ex-sex with whenever she rolls into town. And where is she now, Kate? In town? They could be going at it right now!"

"I don't think they're doing it right now, Lanie."

Despite the conviction in her tone, now that the thought is in her head, it won't leave. All Kate can see is the two of them, slamming against the front door, rekindling the flame that she knows reignites.

"And how would you know that, Kate? Cause the man is yours? Cause _you_ have a claim on him?" Lanie's sarcasm fills the room and Kate turns away as if she could hide from the truth. Could avoid the doubt that is swirling through her veins.

She has no say in who Castle sleeps with. They're nothing more than friends, partners, and she squeezes her eyes shut, wills herself to get a grip on the emotions that are welling at that thought.

What if Meredith's 'I want to be a better Mom' routine has Castle falling for her all over again? Leaving Kate to be pushed to the sidelines once more; forced to watch him walk away, arm in arm toward the sunset with another ex-wife.

"Girl." Lanie's tone softens and it does nothing to help her feeling of vulnerability. "You've been doin' this dance with Castle for far too long, and even you've admitted that the music is starting to fade. I don't want you to miss out on starting something with Castle because of Meredith."

Kate gnaws at her bottom lip, her shoulders curling in as she ponders her friend's words, but what can she do? It's a question that haunts her most days; she just doesn't know what to do to get them… started.

"Maybe you're right."

Lanie's head snaps back in dramatic shock, her hand waving about as she plays up her role as all wise and knowing guru.

"Maybe I'm right?! Of course I'm right."

"Lanie," she interrupts. A headache from this conversation begins to build between her eyes and Kate sighs in frustration as the day really is only getting started. "I didn't come down here to talk about this. You said you had something case related?"

Lanie smiles slightly, apparently ready to move back to the case, and she explains about the blood on the victim's button, while Kate listens with half an ear. Most of her concentration is still focused on Castle and what exactly is he doing at the loft- with his ex-wife?

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Rick nods absently as Meredith goes on and on. How she is so grateful for the opportunity to be here, how sweet Beckett is, how this is her chance to be a good mother, and all he can think is that he doesn't want to tell her the truth.

The kiss with Kate this morning is playing through his head on an endless loop; the feel of her mouth against his, their bodies flush as they had canted toward each other, and he doesn't want to admit that it's all a lie. He so desperately wants it to be true.

Finally with an over-exaggerated wipe of her crocodile tear, Meredith departs up the stairs leaving him perched on the counter, contemplating the fact that Beckett is never going to let him forget that he wasn't able to undo his untruth.

But really, how is he supposed to kick his ex-wife out now that she has played the guilty mother card? And with her upstairs, and he and Kate in a supposed relationship- his breath catches. He realizes that it means if he survives until tonight, he and Beckett will be expected to share a bed as a couple.

_Be in a bed together. _

It's his dream come true- although he doubts that Kate would be willing to take the façade that far.

"Dad?"

His daughter's croaky voice breaks through his thoughts and he stands up straight, turning to face the music. It's the first time he's seen her since he had unexpectedly kissed his partner in the entry way, and this could be a rather awkward conversation.

"Hey. I thought you were sleeping?"

Shaking her head, she bundles the blankets closer to her body and comes to rest next to him.

"Mom dropped some soup in and I now need a juice or something."

"Ohhh. Aftertaste still lingering?"

"It was only one mouthful, but yeah." Her nose scrunches adorably and he swings an arm around her, pulls her closer into his side. Meredith and his mother have more than their red hair in common, that's for sure. He may be biased, but he thinks that their bad cooking skills having skipped Alexis was no doubt due to his influence.

"Soooo. You and Detective Beckett?"

"Mmmm. Yes. About that."

She looks expectantly up at him, ready for the explanation he doesn't have. How does he explain that he had been caught off guard by Meredith, and that having no inclination to repeat past habits, he'd panicked. How was he supposed to fight off the crazy red head and reassure his partner that nothing was going on, when both woman are well aware that things had previously _gone on_? Gone off?

"We just need to pretend that Beckett and I are together. Just while your mother is here."

"But why, Dad? I mean, how does you being with Beckett, even pretending to be with Beckett, change anything?"

He squeezes her tightly before standing up, heading toward the fridge to get her that glass of juice that she came down for, buying himself some time.

Even going slowly, he is soon placing the cup down in front of his daughter, whose eyebrows are raised high, head tilted as she waits a response.

"Well, your mother may have had certain… expectations when she arrived."

Alexis' face screws comically, but he forges on. He'd love to think Alexis is ignorant to his trysts with Meredith, but he knows she's not, and anyway, he's started now and he doesn't want that to be all she hears.

"And I don't necessarily… want _that _anymore."

"Cause you want to be with Beckett?"

It's a simple question, but his daughter has gone right for his jugular.

Nodding slightly, his eyes close for a moment. The topic of his relationship with Beckett is a subject that Alexis usually gives a wide berth to. After all, with her in college they have other things to discuss during the little time they do get to spend together.

"The thing with Beckett and I, it's complicated. But whatever it is. Whatever we want- It's not going to be helped along by your mother inserting herself in the scene. So. It was stupid in hindsight, but I thought that if she thought we were together that she would be happy to look after you from afar."

It had all made sense in his head.

"And you want Grams and I to go along with this? Is _Detective Beckett_ going along with this?"

"Uh-" He shakes his head, avoiding the details. "Just don't say anything. I don't want you lying to your Mom, but just evade if possible. Okay?"

Alexis shrugs and he breathes a sigh of relief. At least she's not going to give him a hard time.

And Beckett… well now he has to go back to the precinct and break the news to her that he hasn't _quite_ handled everything just yet.

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Thank you again for all the love and reviews, favourites and followers xoxo

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And to Jo and Trish for making me make sense even through all the Christmas cheer!

Hope you all had a great holiday!

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Thoughts are appreciated


	4. Chapter 4

**At home here**

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**Any of the scenes from the show that involved them 'being together' are altered to fit in with the storyline- not being together-**

**the rest of the episode (and the characters) work around this story unchanged.**

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_Hey guys? Uh … I think we might have our theory backwards. What if it wasn't an angry ex-husband that killed Miss Twohey? What if it was an angry ex-wife?_

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_Oh, wow. Troublesome ex-wife? Imagine that?_

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Kate pauses, the door to her cruiser already half-open, but instead of sliding into her seat, she watches, taking a leaf out of her partner's book. And what she sees stings her.

Castle stands by the side of the car, apparently so lost in thought that he has come to a stop several feet short of his own door. His hair is a mess, lines cut through the strands, leaving a trail of evidence that clearly indicates fingers have been making continual tracks through his normally carefully combed locks, and she wonders, were they his or _hers_?

"Hey?!" Kate's question is quick and sharp but it does the job and he shakes himself loose from whatever had trapped his attention.

"Huh?" he asks in reply, before his eyes dart in awareness to her position, half in the car. "Right. We're ready to go speak to Samantha Voss. I'm ready." He nods more to himself, making quick work of getting into the car.

Going through the motions, she starts the car, pulls out and gets them onto the road. All of it without a word being said, and it causes her shoulders to tense, a gradual constriction that moves her closer to the floor with each passing mile. She misses their banter, the flirting and ribbing that used to bring a smile to her face, even if she did hide it away from him.

She can't remember the last time she truly enjoyed being in his presence; well besides the moment he'd grabbed and kissed her. There was a lot of joy _there_. Hell, there was heat and electricity, and the memory has her shifting in her seat; the touch of his lips against hers, his hips knocking into her own, makes her warm, makes her ache. For a second, before her mind had gloriously gone blank she had basked in the beauty that was him kissing her. At least until it all came out as a sham - again - and she can't help but wonder if he kisses Meredith like that?

"So?"

His question brings her thoughts to a standstill and her fingers grip the steering wheel hard, annoyance twisting tartly inside - over where she had allowed her thoughts to travel, over what exactly went down at the loft when he went back to sort it out. _'I'm still working on that'_ is hardly an explanation. For all she knows, his idea of working on it implies that he has been working on _her_, doing _her_, screwing-

"So, how's Lanie?"

Traffic is barely creeping along and she takes her time, turns her head to stare at him.

"Lanie's fine." Kate closes her teeth with a snap, holds on to the rest of the words that want to escape- _Lanie wants to know if you're eating Deep Fried Twinkies again_?

"How's Alexis?"_ How's your ex-wife?_

"She was awake, even came down stairs for a chat about-" His eyes widen and he comes to an abrupt halt, the rest of his explanation disappearing as his head begins to scurry frantically around the interior of her cruiser.

"About what, Castle?"

"About going with the flow. Riding out this current wave of misery. Nothing big."

She cringes at his words, can hear the gloss that he is putting on each one as he avoids the truth, not that she knows what that is.

"So… do you think this multi-millionaire could be the killer?"

She shrugs an answer before her irritation over him, _her_, this whole complicated situation rises to the surface and she asks sarcastically, "Are you not wanting the ex-wife to be the culprit?"

Even as the question leaves her lips she wants to retrieve it, take back the words. The last thing she needs is to start a discussion on ex-wives.

It's his turn to twist in his seat, eyes raking painstakingly across the edges that define her, that make her who she is, and she wonders what, exactly he sees. Does he see the nights where she lies wide awake craving something other than her empty bed? Craving him. Can he see that for her the kiss was real until she had pulled back, startled over his sudden touch? That she wants him.

"I'm sorry, Kate."

Her head curves toward him at his unexpected words, of all the comments he could make, this one catches her completely off guard.

"Why?"

"For dragging you into a mess that's not yours to clean up. For asking you to go along with my crazy idea." He stares at her, through her, once again seemingly lost to all the troubles that are apparently clouding his ocean blue eyes.

"Then why did you…?" Why did you kiss me? Why did you say we were together?

"Why did I create the charade? Cause it seemed easier at the time." He shrugs before continuing. "Because she's Alexis' mother and for that fact alone I guess I feel like I owe her something. She gave me my daughter and I can't turn her away. But I want to leave the past in the past. Because…"

He shrugs again, head turning to gaze out the window as the traffic eases and they move swiftly toward Samantha Voss' apartment, but she swears she hears one more _because_, soft and timid, spoken to himself.

"Because I want a different future."

* * *

"Bro, what was that?" The nod of Esposito's head indicates Beckett's retreating form and Castle has less than a second to decide which way to play this. Ignorance seems the best.

"What was what?"

"Your partner just uttered a sarcastic remark about your ex-wife and all you're going to say is 'what was what?'" Ryan stares intently, well as intently as he can and Castle rushes to reassure them.

"Oh, that was nothing."

"Spit it out."

"Tell us!"

They're talking over one another as they hurry to get the truth, and Castle looks around the bullpen, ensuring that no-one - specifically Kate - is within hearing distance.

"Well, Beckett was due to stay at the loft, but with Alexis home sick, Meredith showed up, apparently wanting to help out, but then she started making advances instead, so when Beckett did arrive, I…"

Esposito and Ryan bend toward him as if he was retelling a magical trip to Atlantis rather than how his morning had played out. He hardly thinks it deserves this much attention, actually he is pretty damn sure he wants to forget several parts of it. Except for the kiss. That is going to be placed in a special section of his memory to be recalled as needed.

"And?"

"And, I told Meredith that Beckett and I were together, hoping she would leave. But she didn't. And now we are all staying in the loft. Together."

"Wow." Espo breathes the word, clearly stunned, while Ryan adds in the background.

"Really?"

"Really? You lied to your ex-wife, about Beckett. About being with Beckett? Don't you think she is going to find out the truth? Beckett is hardly going to go along with your stupid plan." Espo shakes his head in bewilderment and Castle can hardly blame him. He is pretty disorientated by his current predicament too.

"She knows. I mean, Beckett knows."

"Yo, dude, and she didn't shoot you on the spot?" Esposito's shocked stare is shared by Ryan as they both rock back onto their heels, heads twisting as one to look at Beckett's empty desk before they right themselves and glare at him. Again.

"No. Obviously. She was fine with it." Okay, so that's not exactly true, but there was a moment, just a fleeting one, where he could have sworn she was into the kiss, had returned his actions.

"Castle," Espo holds eye contact, each word said with a deadly seriousness that leaves Castle gripping the edge of the desk tighter. "You are on the edge of a very, very steep cliff, my friend."

"If you don't do something about it quick…" Ryan butts in, a finger jabbing in his direction, reinforcing his words, and together, as though they had been rehearsing for days, both of their pointer fingers descend from chest height as they mimic him falling off the aforementioned very, very steep cliff. Whistling noises accompanying their pantomime - although is it really a pantomime if noises are made? He gives a slight shake of his head, as Beckett's voice cuts through the boys actions.

What he needs is a plan. He needs to get his original idea of wooing Kate back on track and his thoughts drift to the Four Seasons. The place is exquisite, and if he can get Beckett there, maybe have some strawberries and champagne waiting for the two of them, their night might improve. He can still save this situation. After all, they'll be away from the precinct, and away from the loft. Most importantly, they will be far, far away from a certain red head.

* * *

_No on the Four Seasons. If anyone should be sent to a hotel, it's Meredith. Button up, Kitten. We're going home._

_._

* * *

_._

_Wow, thank you for the response, it has blown me away._

_I am beyond grateful xoxo_

_._

_Thank you to Jo for fixing the unfixable. Xoxo_

_._

_Comments are appreciated _


	5. Chapter 5

**At home here**

**.**

* * *

**.**

**Any of the scenes from the show that involved them 'being together' are altered to fit in with the storyline- not being together-**

**the rest of the episode (and the characters) work around this story unchanged.**

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* * *

When Kate had stated that they were going _home, _that she was not going to let Castle's ex-wife drive them into a hotel suite, she probably should have stopped and given it more thought. The idea of giving in to _Meredith_ is unimaginable, but now that she is standing awkwardly at the entrance to his bedroom - a bedroom that according to his lie, she should be familiar with, have intimate knowledge of, not to mention that she should have intimate knowledge of _him_ – and she can't stop the pink as it flushes her skin.

She has dreamed and envisioned this day a hundred times over and not once did it ever involve it being pretend. It being a lie. And it leaves her wondering; if it wasn't for the lies and deception that they'd both been party to last year, maybe none of this would have been a façade. Maybe someone would have been braver and taken the first step needed for this to be their reality.

Her eyes dart around the room, taking in as much as she can; the bold prints on the wall - even at first glance the lion's predatory gaze freaks her out - and the masculine overtones that are offset by the chairs scattered around the bed.

Oh damn. The bed.

It sits proudly in the middle of the room and the smallest of gasps escape as her mind conjures up images. Not just of the two of them in the bed, although that is where her imagination definitely goes first. But it's the other scenarios that come to mind which leave her adrift, lost at sea with nothing to hold on to.

Would her clothes fit in the cupboard, snuggly brushing against his? Would she have a side to the bed, a table to place her slippers under? At the end of a hard case, would they share a glass of red, laugh and unwind before forgetting the day, wrapped in each other's arms?

Would she ever have any of that? Could she?

"Hey."

Turning to face him, she pushes it all down, ignores the overwhelming need to rage or cry at a life she doesn't have and she forces a halfhearted smile onto her features. Hopefully she hides the pain that is now an elephant pushing down on her chest, as large as the one portrayed on the canvas hanging from the wall.

At least that animal isn't glaring at her.

"So, the bathroom is through that way, and as you can see, my office is through the shelves. I mean through the door. Obviously." Castle takes an unsteady breath; halts the onslaught of words that are stumbling over the top of each other in his apparent nervousness, and it eases the tension that had been building in her, resulting in a genuine smile to blossom this time.

"It's a nice room, Castle." He returns her grin, shoulders relaxing as he angles a fraction, his eyes mimicking her earlier perusal and he shrugs at what he sees.

"Thanks. Make yourself at home."

Their eyes crash into each other's, both pairs widening at the implication that is not so subtly hidden between each word; home insinuates resting, enjoying one's self, finding enjoyment in activities that are pleasurable, and as suddenly as they'd made eye contact they tear themselves apart.

Hastily striding forward, her dizzying speed results in a clumsiness that has her travel bag slipping repeatedly off the bed; each attempt at opening the damn thing is futile until he steps forward, silently taking over the task. She's thankful that once he's done he takes a step back, the distance creating some room between them. She's no longer drowning in him, and she breathes deeply while pulling out her sweats.

They had seemed like a safe choice when she was packing for this trip; of course, she had expected to be upstairs, maybe only seeing him for a fleeting moment in the morning over coffee. She'd figured that long sleeves and pants were appropriate attire for early morning exposure, and he has seen her in less.

She wants him to see her in less.

Almost running to the bathroom, god forbid he hears her thoughts and senses exactly where her mind went to, her feet slide to a stop as she enters, the atmosphere like a slap in the face, her already rapid heartbeat increasing, and her eyes close as she inhales the scent that is him.

It's everything that she battles on a daily basis; the smell of him that she internally fights against. The desire to bury her head into the soft skin under his jaw, the inclination to fall to her knees and declare that she is tired of doing this dance, that she wants to be free and move forward as one with him.

She wants to be with him.

She has no idea how she is going to survive the night.

* * *

Breathe in, breathe out. It seems easy enough, it had _seemed _easy enough, but at the moment his partner lies within touching distance, fast asleep. Given the number of fantasies he's had about Kate over the years, it strikes him as amusing that right now it's the urge to roll over and just _hold_ her that he has to fight.

He just doesn't know if he would live for very long after the fact.

They had awkwardly shifted around each other as they'd prepared for bed, taking turns in the bathroom - he could smell the infusion that was all her when he had gone in - before he'd exited to find her standing at the foot of the bed. Her expression had been an unrecognizable assortment of emotions, and he'd stood for a moment wondering if she could feel it too? There is an underlying current that it didn't have to be this way, that they shouldn't have been a farce, that this lie could have been their life, and he'd made the decision there and then; this treading water was going to end before she retreated back to her own apartment. They were going to be made - or broken - here and now.

Well not exactly now. He had subtly pulled the covers back on her side - it would've been hers - and gone about turning off the lights, doing his best not to stop and stare at the sight of her as she'd climbed into his bed - their bed. The last thing he'd wanted to do was scare her off by being his normal over the top, comical self, he had come to the conclusion earlier that kid gloves were going to be more successful in keeping her in the bed, next to him.

She'd whispered a quiet 'good night' before rolling to face the wall housing his animal prints, and he'd been left lying there, tense as a tiger ready to pounce. Not that that was at all a good analogy, he wasn't pouncing; he was trying to sleep, drift off into the land of nod, catch forty winks….

His frustrated sigh breaks loudly through the nightly sounds; the muffled street noises from below, the steady in and out as Kate sleeps, seemingly at peace with the world, and he twists under the thick covers. His view is now all her, her long hair that has been bunched into a sloppy bun, the graceful line of her neck as it meets her shoulder, skin exposed thanks to the jersey shirt that is several sizes too big for her slender frame.

One of his hands snakes across the sheets, cautiously moving of its own accord - it's not like he would purposely seek her out while she sleeps - until it reaches the pillow underneath her head. Her pillow, which is no doubt being graced with her heavenly aroma, coating the material in a fragrance that he'll attempt to hold on to long after she has gone.

Slowly a finger extends; twirls its way through a stray curl that has escaped from the confinement of her hair tie and his eyes gently close as the texture awakens the vast array of fantasies that he normally keeps under lock and key.

He imagines how it would feel to slide his hands through the river of chestnut hair; the way he would continue his journey south, replace his fingers with his mouth. His lips would paint his love for her across the channels and plateaus of her chest, hard and soft, nothing would be left untouched, undiscovered, until finally he would reach sacred ground.

Snatching his hand back while sitting up abruptly, he half falls, half stumbles out of bed, his ribs expand and contract in quick succession as he attempts to draw in a full breath. It's not like he hasn't had these thoughts before. It's just never been quite this vivid; hell, she is right there, and he heads toward the bathroom.

In spite of the late hour, another shower sounds like a good idea. A cold shower sounds like a great idea.

* * *

Stretching, Kate worms her rear further into the pillow behind her, until suddenly the pillow wriggles forward, stopping her movement back and she realizes with a start that it's not part of the bed, and it all comes crashing back. Whose apartment she is in, whose _bed_ she is in, who, exactly, is behind her. She gasps as she realizes Castle's hand is gripping the shirt she is sleeping in with an intensity that makes her wonder what has caused such a reaction, yet as he again shifts toward her, it becomes rather obvious what has him holding on for dear life. His dreams are apparently rather _stimulating_.

Moving as gradually as she can, she slithers from under his touch, only just catching herself from falling off the side of the mattress, as she creates a gap between them, lest she does something about his rather large problem.

Shaking her head, dislodging the thought, that while it would most definitely would be one way to kick start their relationship, it wouldn't really be conducive to a healthy beginning of togetherness. She stands, heads stealthily to her case. What she needs to do is get dressed for the day and find some coffee. She smiles at the thought; while she is there she should prepare one for him, turn the tables a little, surprise him with a touch of early morning happiness that is a bit more appropriate for their current holding pattern.

* * *

_Oh, that smells delicious. Can I have a cup? _

_I – was just making that for Castle, but yeah, here._

_._

* * *

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Thank you again for all the love and reviews, favourites and followers xoxo

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And to Jo for making me make sense even with all my sleep deprivation!

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Thoughts are appreciated


	6. Chapter 6

**At home here**

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* * *

**.**

**Any of the scenes from the show that involved them 'being together' are altered to fit in with the storyline- not being together-**

**the rest of the episode (and the characters) work around this story unchanged.**

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* * *

He rubs a hand across his face, tries to push the last remnants of sleep away, clear the disappointment that had set in as he'd opened his eyes this morning only to discover he was alone. He had hoped that he would have woken to find Beckett half asleep and maybe a little off-guard, that maybe they could have talked in the early morning light, when everything looks a fraction more promising. That maybe he could have broached the subject of what they are, and more importantly, what they could be if they could only find a way to evolve their current dance into a smoother waltz.

Instead it was empty sheets and empty arms. At least the smell of coffee was enticing, the aroma of all things _them_ coiled through the bookshelves beckoning him to her. Because it has to be her; no one else would be up this early, making such a beverage coated declaration.

Throwing a robe on over his sleep ware, he shuffles through his office door, swaying slightly as he lumbers toward his awaiting partn-

"_Oh_. Hey, you two." He can't believe his eyes as he takes in the horror that has invaded his kitchen; this is completely _not _Kate making herself at home. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just making coffee." Meredith replies, holding out a cup and he reaches for it automatically as she adds unnecessarily, "Here, this is for you."

"Oh, thank you," comes out as he remembers his manners, no doubt making his mother proud. Then again, in this instance, maybe not- and he takes ahold of the mug, bringing it to his lips and an old yet familiar taste comes crashing through. "Mmm… what is in this? Did you add–"

"Nutmeg." Both of them speak as one, their humor over past memories line their features until he looks up, catches sight of Beckett standing across the counter looking like she wants to be anywhere but in his kitchen and he is thumped with the realization that he is crossing a sacred line.

He is drinking another woman's coffee.

He drops the mug down with such unexpected force that it has all three of them jumping at the noise as it slices through the moment he was having with his ex-wife, and he steps back, places a good foot of distance between himself and the now offending item.

Coffee is their thing; coffee is how he tells her that he loves her, the simple act with which he always hopes to leave her with a smile on her face that lasts for the rest of the day.

He should not be drinking his ex-wife's special blend.

Striding with a purpose he doesn't feel, he moves himself into the kitchen, comes to a stop in front of Kate and with one hand bridging the gap between them, he rests it gently against her hip, the whole time willing her to play along, rather than take out her gun and shoot him where he stands.

He can see out the corner of his eye that Meredith is observing the two of them, waiting for some kind of next move, but while he got away with kissing Beckett once- bringing his running tally to two- there is no way that she would let another one slide without some kind of consequence. A bad, bad, consequence.

Still he needs to make up for his earlier blunder, for drinking from the forbidden mug.

Stretching with his left hand, he wraps his fingers around the handle of Kate's cup of coffee, his eyes locked with hers as he attempts to get a read on what words are forming in that beautiful mind of hers, yet he sees nothing but blank paper.

Her body seems relaxed under his touch; she hasn't pulled away or absconded with her coffee, and he takes it all as a win, moves deliberately so that she can, with any luck, see what he is saying without words.

Lifting her mug to his mouth, he opens his lips, lets the rich flavor slide across his taste buds, his eyes drifting closed as the sensation of caffeine and early morning mixes together until it is flooding every synapse, altering every nerve cell.

It's almost like drinking her, tasting her. Almost.

Pulling the white porcelain away, he holds it between them, his eyes opening to find the pink flash of her tongue darting back into those luscious lips of hers, and it tugs something fierce low inside of himself.

Damn he wants to know what it is to have that mouth, that tongue slide across his skin. What it would be to have that trail of fire scorched across his soul.

Extending her right hand, she traces along each of his fingers until she's able to cup both him and the mug underneath, and with a firm yet delicate touch she pushes upward. The coffee approaching her mouth as she parts her lips, welcoming the heavenly goodness that is coming.

And the tug below evolves into a yank that has him fighting the urge to rip the cup from her mouth so he can replace the china with his lips, drink the flavor that would be lingering on her skin, suck the residual traces of caffeine from her tongue.

She lowers the mug, a slight hitch in her breath he swears he can hear, and she offers him a hesitant smile, a quick upward tug of those lips he has just been fantasizing about, before she steps back.

Giving Meredith a barely there nod, she struts- there is simply no other word to describe how her hips move as she walks away- toward the bedroom, throwing an, "_I'll be at work,_" over one shoulder.

He'll be right behind her. After he has another cold shower, that is.

* * *

"Hey, listen about the whole coffee thing… I didn't mean to drink you. Yours. The cup. I didn't mean to drink from your cup. It was-"

"It's okay, Castle. You were just…" Actually she has no idea what he was doing, what she was doing. One moment she was resisting the urge to smack his ex-wife on the head with the coffee pot- a move that Lanie at least would be proud of- and the next thing she knows, they were heatedly drinking from a shared mug. Bizarrely swapping saliva- and she wonders for a fleeting moment; does that count as another kiss?

The silence drags on as she continues flipping through yearbooks, Castle remaining out of place against the door frame. She stupidly thinks to herself that maybe she should bring up last night, talk about the fact that they had slept together, kind of. After all, she now knows regardless of whatever is holding him back mentally, at least physically he wants her.

Not that that is really a surprise; it's just a little different to have the evidence pressed firmly against you.

But then, what if it wasn't her who he was dreaming of. What if…

She shakes her head, slamming another book closed. It's forever one step forward, two steps back with them. Surely the heat between them this morning wasn't faked. Could he be that good of an actor?

"No-ah."

"Huh? What? No?"

"No, not no, Castle. Noah. Kesswood. Corey Francis is really Noah."

* * *

Kate rounds the corner of the break room, pushing the panic attack down. She has the sudden urge to ring Meredith back with a flimsy excuse about work running late so that she can get out of the dinner she has somehow found herself in.

What was she thinking?!

It is one thing to play up their relationship with Castle, mess around with the idea that they are together, that they are more than they really are, but how is she going to be able to maintain the charade by herself when Meredith starts asking questions about being with Castle.

He is the story teller of the pair, and as good as she is at thinking on her feet; making up back story about how they got together, where they spent their first vacation, how they spent Christmas, is completely out of her reach.

Moving to stand in front of the murder board, she does her best to look busy, scribbles useless notes onto a white area as her partner approaches, and she swear she can hear him muttering under his breath something about ex-wives and potential girlfriends getting together, but that might just be wishful thinking on her part.

"What happens when two worlds collide?"

His question catches her by surprise and she stands, hand still poised holding the pen ready to go back to her writing.

"Uhhh, what?"

Waving a hand in dismissal, he smiles sweetly in her direction, and she cringes in anticipation of the approaching sentence.

"Are you sure you want to go to dinner with Meredith? Remember, she's a little crazy and of course, dramatic." His face contorts theatrically, "Ugh. Miserable combination."

Biting down on the long ago link he had made between sex and crazy people, she instead tries to focus on him, not him and_ her._

"Castle, it's just two people getting together. What's the worst that could happen?"

Again she hears the low mumblings of "World's" and "Colliding" but she brushes it aside. She has bigger things to worry about, and not just how they are going to track down Noah Kesswood. No, tonight she has to spend the evening with Castle's ex-wife, while pretending to be Castle's new girlfriend.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

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Thank you so much for the overwhelming response to this story, it truly makes my day reading every comment xoxo

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This will have to be updated daily to get the 15,000 words out before the 25th to met the ficathons requirements.

I don't know if I should apologise? Does daily updates annoy? (I love but, I consume fic like chocolate, once a day, sooooo?)

.

Thank you to Jo, especially for all the coffee assistance, lol

.

Thoughts are appreciated xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

**.**

**At home here**

**.**

* * *

**.**

**Any of the scenes from the show that involved them 'being together' are altered to fit in with the storyline- not being together-**

**the rest of the episode (and the characters) work around this story unchanged.**

.

* * *

Kate sinks a little further into the seat of the restaurant. Her body has gradually become relaxed as the night has progressed. The tension that she'd originally felt has subsided, not completely, but to her surprise, dinner with Meredith has at least been… _tolerable_, even a little fun.

Although the two glasses of white wine that accompanied dinner could be the contributing factor here.

"So as I was saying, Kate, the blonde next to me had no chance of getting the part, yet still, you should have heard her rage at the injustice of it all. Was really quite humorous, for me." Meredith finishes another in-depth story about her glamorous days in LA, adding in a laugh that is loud enough to attract the attention of those surrounding them and Kate is surprised when she joins in with a soft chuckle of her own.

Lifting a finger and smiling at the passing waiter, she takes her laugh as a sign that one more glass of wine is only going to help keep the harmony between the two of them, after all, she will be catching a cab back to the loft with Meredith, back to Castle's, back to Castle's bed. Hell, maybe she should order two glasses, a bit of Dutch courage could actually be helpful.

"So… Ka-_te_." The way Meredith holds and drags out the last syllable of her name has her sitting up straighter. This sounds ominous.

"How long has it been for you and Rick?"

"Been?"

"You know, together. Last time I was here, things were _very _different." Meredith smirks, an all knowing grin that pulls at her lips and Kate smothers the panic her question has induced. She knew it was coming; she just needs to remember to keep it vague.

"Well, it has been a long time since your last visit. And you know how these things happen, one moment you're friends and the next you're…" _Not actually involved with your partner but are stuck pretending to be lest his ex-wife think she has some kind of chance at a reconciliation._ "Together in other ways."

"Oh. Of course, organically and all that."

Kate nods and employs a less is better approach with her silence.

"And really, Kate, once you have had the man, it's not like you could ever really stop. Not willingly at least. You two are good together?" Again, Meredith chuckles and while a part of her thinks she should leave the actress' comment alone, she is finding Castle's ex-wife's dynamic nature hard to ignore.

"Regardless of how good it is, I'm hardly going to kiss and tell, Meredith." Not that there is anything to kiss and tell about, unless she counts her imagination. Although Meredith does know and this could be a good time to get some insider information but _really, _after having a thought like that, pushing that third glass of wine away is probably best. She hardly wants to hear what Castle is like from _her_.

"Yes, kissing and telling is wrong." The dramatic wink that accompanies Meredith's words sets off another giggle and Kate thinks she understands Castle a little more after tonight, his ex-wife does have a personality that you can't help but become swept up by.

"Kissing and telling is very wrong, no matter how good, Meredith." Kate returns a wink of her own and stands abruptly; this is probably a sign that they should get going, before she begins agreeing with anything else from the red-head's mouth. "It's late, we should…"

"Of course, Kate. You must be eager to get back. Someone is undoubtedly awaiting your return. Rick is most likely pacing up and down the loft, stressing over our night together. _Ohhhh_, that gives me an idea!"

* * *

He trails after her, his mouth remaining wide open in astonishment after hearing that laughter, that sound, erupt from his partner; the night seems to have gone well for them, which, he concludes is only bad news for him.

Pulling forth every ounce of bravery that exists within himself, he rounds the corner to find her standing in front of his dresser, tiredly eyeing him through the mirror, and he comes to a stop in the doorway. His heart and his chances of ever getting past the wall that surrounds her are evaporating with one look.

His has to stand tall, take it like a man, take the consequences that come with having them under the same roof, and he asks, "Okay, what did she say about me?"

Beckett leans forward, lips firmly pressed together as if contemplating his demise, or worse, her escape.

"Ugh, c'mon. I get it. I get it. I mishandled this whole thing. But believe me, I am sorry. Please? Tell me what Meredith said. Is it anything I need to be worried about?"

She maintains her stare, holds onto the silence before pivoting on the spot, taking a hesitant step forward.

"Relax, Castle. It was fine. The night was fine. And I kept our cover, kept your little charade going."

"I wasn't worried about that. I was worried-" His eyes close as does his mouth. How can he explain that his greatest fear is that she will see all the parts of him, and turn, walk away? He still has things that he keeps hidden, protected, things that are concealed with a wise crack, a nicely timed pun.

What if his ex-wife twists something from his past and it leaves Kate re-evaluating _him_.

Them.

"Hey, Castle." He internally debates the benefits of standing before her, his eyes closed, until she tires and drifts off to bed, but unexpectedly the soft edge of his cheekbone is caressed. The warmth of her fingers glide up until they flutter past the shell of his ear and his soul stutters as she whispers, "There's nothing she could say that would change the man that you are. The man that I…"

He senses her hand fall to her side as his eyes flicker, widening as he takes in the fact that she is standing before him, no more than a foot away and he desperately wants, _needs_, her to finish the end of that sentence.

But then again, maybe she doesn't have to.

He looks at her, truly looks for the first time in far too many months; his gaze sliding over the tug that lifts her exquisite lips, the smile that dances in the corner of her mouth as her tongue darts to smooth the plump surface. Moving up, his eyes lock with hers, and while her tentativeness bleeds through, is no doubt reflected in the sheen that coats his irises he sees something else, something more.

He sees what could be love.

Ever since that day where their secrets and mistruths had all come to the surface, their apologies and uncertain forgiveness shared, he has been willing to take a step back, wait for their old equilibrium to return. And while it never has - somehow it has become as lost as they are - he realizes for the first time, maybe instead of trying to recapture the past he needs to write them a new future, not for tomorrow, or next month, but now.

_Right now._

Because maybe she wants this just as much as he does.

Lifting a hand, he goes painstakingly slow, gives her a chance to back away in case he's managed to read her completely wrong, yet as his fingers find themselves sliding through her loose curls, cupping the side of her head, she does the opposite,

It's only the smallest of tilts, the softest of sighs, but they are all that he needs, all the encouragement he requires to move his mouth toward her own.

The weight of expectation, the heaviness that this will be their first kiss, their first _real _kiss, has him moving gradually. The anticipation and the importance that comes with this moment, the moment that their lips will touch for the first _real _time, has the clock coming to a halt. He can hear the thump as each beat of his heart squeezes his blood cells through his body, he can feel Kate's pulse escalate under his palm as he continues to hold her steady.

And it is this that holds him steady.

Every synapse of his brain records every second; he inhales deeply, noting what it is to be this close to her. Her scent is flooding his system, the hint of the precinct and of the restaurant clings to her clothes, but mainly it is the intoxicating aroma that is _her_.

The woman that he loves.

His lips reach their nirvana, touch and slide against her mouth, her body shifting and rising up to meet him, and he finds home.

Until, like a wrecking ball, the moment is shattered as the silence is destroyed by the incessant ringing of her phone; the long shrill beat that starts and continues, then pauses before beginning once more.

Stepping back, her cheeks flushed red in what he can only hope is desire for him and irritation over the interruption, she checks the screen, a single curse uttered between the phone's annoying echo.

Twisting away, her head dips down as she barks down the line, "Beckett." And he is left standing, staring at the back of her head as his dream, the possibility of tonight being their step forward, is washed away as Ryan requests their immediate return to the precinct.

How do they go back to work now? How does he shut down the part of him that wants to rage against Ryan and her job, for blocking what never had a chance to start?

Yet as Beckett ends the call, turns to face him, her face guarded against an unknown entity, he realizes if they are ever going to be _together_, then being together after moments like this are going to be just as important as all the other times. They are partners after all.

"We'd better go, it sounds like it's our breakthrough."

And the smile that splashes across her features at his words makes him think that maybe not all is lost. Maybe the moment is merely on hiatus rather than actually stopped.

* * *

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Thank you to each and everyone of you that have left me love, my smile can be seen from space ;-)

xoxo

Thank you to those that fav and follow.

and

to Jo for answering weird questions, such as, how many glasses does it take to be ... ?

love ya xoxo

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Thoughts?


	8. Chapter 8

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**At home here**

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**Any of the scenes from the show that involved them 'being together' are altered to fit in with the storyline- not being together-**

**the rest of the episode (and the characters) work around this story unchanged.**

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He falls against the loft's front door, his body's weight doing most of the opening; he is an odd mixture of exhausted, elated, and concerned. It's late, but they had done what they do best and they'd finally been able to put a bow around this case, along with handing a written confession over to the DA, but the worry for him lies with what happened after Beckett had arrested Jane, or Leann, depending on how you look at it.

Once they'd exited the interview room, Kate had become silent. Besides the necessary words to get them packed up and on their way home, she hasn't been forthcoming with any other banter, any lighthearted innuendo about killer wives. Granted, what they really need to do is to have a deep and meaningful discussion about their kiss, almost kiss, nearly there if it wasn't for Ryan and his cockblocking ways kiss, but he's willing to settle for any kind of communication at this stage.

Sighing, he moves forward, holding the door open for Beckett who is standing a respectable distance behind him, and as he gets out of the way, she enters, eyes cast down, her shoulders slumped.

And damn it, he has had enough.

"Do you want a glass of wine before bed? Celebrate our success?"

It's a bold move for him, yet the last time he stepped up to the plate it had paid off. Or, _nearly _paid off.

Kate angles slightly, eyes rising to at least meet his at last and the air within the room becomes electric, a current buzzes against his skin, and the sensation only escalates as she smiles; it's only one corner of her mouth, a little surge, but it does magnificent things to his psyche.

"I'd really like that, Castle." Her head ducks down again, but this time he thinks it is more to do with the flush that's creeping across her skin, rather than any avoidance of him, and she continues, "I'm just going to get ready for bed."

He watches her retreating form as she scurries into his bedroom, and once more he is struck by how right that image is; her at home _here_, making her way around the loft, and his earlier resolution to _make _them – because he will never survive it if they break – comes back with full force.

Dragging his eyes away from where she'd exited, he follows through with his offer, walks over to the kitchen to hunt down a bottle of wine for Kate and himself - tonight he's actually craving a tumbler of scotch but sharing a nice syrah with Kate sounds perfect - and he is sure there is a new bottle that would be perfect to celebrate the end of this case.

Or even better, to celebrate the beginning of something new.

He takes his time in uncorking the wine and pouring the drinks, his mind running away with different scenarios and conversation starters about how the night could unfold once he steps across the threshold and into the bedroom. But the longer he takes, the more the anxiety begins to creep back in; his imagination becoming his own worst enemy.

Why does one bad response, one negative action, take over and tarnish all the good moments? How does an hour of strained silence become more important than the hundreds of hours that they have spent together, laughing, joking, and happily being a partnership?

He chuckles to himself, despite the fact that it's hardly funny, but it reminds him a little too much of his mother after he publishes a new book; she ignores the hundreds of rave reviews to find the one passive aggressive article and he spends the next week running it over and over again in his head.

Well, that needs to stop. _This_ needs to stop. The only way to find out how the night is going to progress is to pick up the drinks and head into the bedroom.

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She smooths the duvet across her lap, _again_, her movement ironing out the wrinkles that appear before her and she wishes it were that easy to clear the wrinkles in her mind, to make everything that is all jumbled and messy into flat plains. Once she had made the arrest, the realization that they needed to go home – back to the _loft _– had overwhelmed her suddenly.

It's stupid, rationally she knows it is stupid, because Castle did make the first move, he was the one who had leant forward to kiss her, but the little voice inside her head has begun whispering incessantly about would happen next? Would there _be_ a next?

This isn't the first time that they have come to a crossroad where things could have gone either way. Only now she knows what happens when they chose the safer path, and she doesn't want that any more. She will be courageous and fight for them if she has to.

And for the last hour she has done nothing but think of ways to make that happen. Make them happen.

"Hey?"

Jerking her head up, she looks at Castle standing awkwardly in the doorway, a glass in each hand, and she smiles timidly at him, raising a hand to retrieve her wine.

"You got into bed already?" There's more pout than question in his tone and she grins again, this time with more confidence as he narrows the gap between them to sit on his side of the bed. Apparently, she has given them sides now and she hopes the heat flaring across her cheeks is unnoticeable in the low light. She has only turned two on, and the glow creates shadows that dance across the walls, making everything a touch softer.

Castle faces the headboard, faces her as he holds out her wine and she takes it happily, lifting the glass to her mouth for a healthy sip, and as the peppery liquid slides down, her body naturally relaxes against the padded surface behind her.

"Thank you, Castle."

He extends his glass, knocks it gently into the side of her drink and she has to ask, "What are we toasting tonight?"

"To a job well done? Another case closed? To justice? Although I don't know where it lies in this instance?"

"Because the waters are murky?"

"Everything is a little murky, Kate?"

He takes a mouthful of his wine and she tracks its way down, the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows, the arch of his neck as he looks toward the ceiling, before bending and placing his drink on the table next to the bed.

He shifts closer, his knee brushing her covered thigh and she mimics his earlier actions, depositing the glass on her own nightstand, and turns back to face him. To face what comes next.

"I feel like I'm going to repeat myself here, but Kate… we kiss and-"

"We don't talk about it." She finishes the sentence for him, her mind traveling back to all those years ago when they'd faced one of their bigger watershed moments, and she remembers all those days, weeks, _months_, where, while isolated in her father's cabin, she had promised herself that she would have done things differently if she was only given a second chance.

They are far from second chances now and it is this that finally crashes through the wall that surrounds her. What if tomorrow is the day? Another bomb, some deadly toxin? And suddenly all the waiting means nothing, would have meant nothing, because if she loses him tomorrow the pain will be no less, but the regret will be soul destroying.

Ghosting a hand across the ridges between his fingers, she takes her time, meanders slowly around each knuckle, up and down along each finger until she reaches his thumb and heads north.

Her light touch becomes gradually all-encompassing as she wraps her hand around the muscles of his forearm, continues her passage higher until her fingers are dwarfed as she pauses for a moment at his biceps. Now that she has reached the material of his shirt, the skin of her thumb begins tracing circles on top of his rolled up sleeve. She loves seeing him like this; the now shorter length accentuating the strength that lies within his arms.

Arms that had huddled her in freezing conditions, that had pulled her to safety from the Hudson, that had held the gun high as he fired, saving her from Tyson. It has always been these arms, will always be these arms that she turns to, and pushing herself up and out from underneath the covers, her mouth captures his.

One of Castle's hands finds its way into her hair, tangling through the long strands as he holds her steady, gives as much as he takes, his tongue darting between her lips, testing, tasting, exploring the warm heat inside her mouth and she returns his actions - time sliding away without either of them acknowledging its passing.

Of all the moments that she has spent imagining this, dreaming of what this moment would feel like, she realizes she was right all those years ago, except...

It wasn't just him who would've had no idea.

Pulling back eventually, a slight shudder coursing through her body, a flash of emptiness tearing at her, at being separated so soon from the heat of his body, from his mouth, and she gazes upward, peers through her lashes to study his face.

And if the million-watt smile didn't do things to her insides; the way he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, the trail of moisture that glistens in the low light, has her bending forward for more.

"Kate?" he mumbles, less than an inch between them and it stops her attempt at round two, yet his hand remains tight in her hair, prevents her from leaning away.

"Yeah?"

"It's late."

She nods as her mind attempts to grasp the meaning of why they are talking instead of using their mouths for much more important reasons.

"I just… I don't… do you want me to sleep on the couch tonight?"

And suddenly she understands what he is asking. If they share a bed tonight, is she ready, wanting, open to the idea of this leading to something much more than heated kisses on top of the comforter?

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So, I should stop there right? ;-)

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Thank you so much, I know I say it individually, unless you are a guest reviewer, but it will always deserve repeating.

Thank you for making my day xoxo

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Thanks to Jo for her wonderful betaing and her vast knowledge of wine (at least vast compared to my non-existent one, lol)

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Thoughts?


	9. Chapter 9

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**At home here**

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**Please note the change in rating - **

**This chapter is rated M, **

**and if you are not comfortable reading, I have written this so that the next chapter picks up without any information being **

**missed, besides of course their change in relationship status. **

**Guess what changes happen ;-)**

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Kate runs his question through her mind once more. Is she ready for this? For them?

She thinks that if this was a good old-fashioned romance novel the last five years would be flashing through her mind in quick succession; that she would see each moment which has led to this very second. But it isn't, her life isn't even a great mystery novel; after all, Nikki and Rook were able to see what was in front of them years before she and Castle ever woke up and realized who was standing right there.

Her earlier thoughts come back to her as she weighs her next move; this is more than their second chance, this is everything that she has been wishing for. This is their chance to be _everything _they've wanted to be, and she knows what she needs to do.

She shifts on the bed, rises and settles on her heels, knees digging into the mattress next to him. Extending a hand, she slowly reduces the distance between them until her fingers latch on to his top button while her unoccupied hand moves to one of the buttons that is keeping her flannel pajama shirt closed. It's difficult but in tandem, she works to free both at once. Seeing her slight struggle, he goes to assist with hers but she wants to do this, wants to lead, and she bats his hand away assertively.

His button frees itself first - she hopes it's not a sign - and with his out of the way, her fingers can concentrate on making quick work on her own. But evidently it all becomes too much for Castle; he reaches for her with both hands, releasing every one of her buttons before she can even begin to liberate his second.

Parting the fabric, he opens her pajama top wide, and it leaves her feeling exposed. Fighting with the urge to cross her arms over her now bare chest, she focuses instead on getting him into a similar position. The desire to have his skin against hers becomes overwhelming and her fingers nimbly undo one after the other until the last is free and she can mimic his actions.

Not that she is given much of a chance to gaze at his uncovered solid frame. His hands start tracing the high edge of her cheekbones, leaving a trial of fire in their wake and her eyes automatically find his.

They stare at each other, breath held, hearts thundering, and then they move as one, crash together almost desperately, giving in. Mouths attach, teeth nip, tongues taste, and the heat that they're generating leaves her skin flushing pink.

Her thighs press together as his glorious mouth explores her own with an abandonment that slices straight through her; her hips and rear push against the heels of her feet as she attempts to alleviate the tension that is gathering between her legs.

His hands grip the side of her head tenderly as his tongue continues its wickedly sinful exploration, her mouth retaliating in the hope that she is creating the same thrill inside his body.

Leaving her mouth, his lips fasten onto the hard line of her collarbone and her body jerks sharply at his desertion, a low whine of protest sliding out unknowingly.

"I can do more than just kiss, Beckett." He has the audacity to laugh into her skin, the arc of her neck receiving his words.

Volleying back, she encourages, "Then show me, instead of wasting your energy on talking?"

His mouth moves north again, heading higher until his teeth find purchase; rasping along the skin of her neck before he bites down with more strength than is needed but her body is powerless to resist and she's propelled forward toward him. The intoxicating pull of pain and pleasure has her jerking frantically at his shirt; her desire to have it off his broad shoulders becomes her top priority. Her need for more is making everything hazy, yet as she gets it halfway down, the rolled up sleeves become wedged on his biceps, his arms stuck against his sides, and she growls in frustration. It's tempting to leave the shirt tangled, but she keenly feels the loss of his hands, her skin craving his touch, and she shifts backward so she can see where it has all gone wrong.

Laughter bubbles up and escapes in short bursts as together they tug and maneuver to free him from the black crumpled mess of his shirt, a single clap breaking the silence as she celebrates its departure and he chuckles at her rejoicing.

"Happy to see it go, Kate?"

She rolls her eyes, not the full blown expression of exasperation from years past, but a tiny turn upward as she acknowledges that she may be more than a little eager to get this started. To get him naked.

All the mirth at their situation dissolves from her eyes as she watches him stand, discarding the offending shirt, his hands moving to the button of his pants, and her breath lodges in her throat.

This is real. So very real.

He uses his thumbs to hook both pants and boxers and in one swift move, he is standing bare before her, shifting from foot to foot as her gaze attempts to capture all there is to see at once. Attempts to memorize every plain and dip of his body. A body that appears just as desperate for more.

Locking her eyes with his, she witnesses a slight hesitancy, a little unease creeping into his stare and she appreciates that he is standing before her, letting her see all that he is, and she smiles, wants to return the gesture.

Slowly crawling to the bed's edge, she slides her pajama top off. Swinging her legs toward the ground, she stands, several feet separating them as she tugs down the last of her clothing. If he is willing to stand, exposed before her, allow her to see all that he is, she can be brave enough to do the same.

His eyes travel a meticulous path across her skin, darkening as they pause, stuck on the scars on her chest, both of his hands curling against an untouchable force.

"Castle?"

Snapping his scrutiny away that from which marks her, he looks deep into her eyes and whispers quietly, the gravel in his tone catching her by surprise. "You're beautiful. Your strength and your resilience. They make you so very beautiful."

She steps forward, her hands grasping high on his shoulders as she propels herself up, a leg finding purchase in the dip behind his knee as she closes the space between them, until skin is skimming across skin.

Both of his hands descend along the long arch of her back, trailing over her taut skin, making their way down to squeeze the rounded flesh of her rear, and suddenly she is lifted higher against his body. Her legs instinctively wrap themselves around the width of his hips, and oh, _oh_. She had no idea how true her words, way back when they worked their first case would be. _No idea._

Her mouth nips at the skin of his neck, attacks all she can get access to, leaving a trail of bite marks as she senses him moving them back toward the bed. Her arms grip him tighter as he lays her onto her back, his body hovering above hers, his weight supported by his elbows and knees.

"Kate?"

A hum against his skin is all she can manage, distracted by the tangy salt of his skin.

"I need to find a… it's just been awhile, so…"

Right, shit, of course. Protection.

Except she's covered, and it's been awhile for her too.

"I'm clean, if-"

"Yeah. No. I mean yes, me too."

She slides a hand down, crisscrossing her flat nails along his skin, clipping over one of his nipples as she continues her journey until she can feel him hard against her palm.

His groan is smothered by her shoulder, the tension in his body rolling off and over her in waves as she senses his attempt to keep still, to fight the urge he must feel to bring this all to a head rather quickly.

And she should feel sorry for him, but she doesn't; instead she uses her fingers to taunt him further, causes his muscles to contract as he strains to hold himself above her.

Unexpectedly he pulls his hips away, catches her fingers with his own and dragging her hand high above her head, he leans slightly to his left, his elbow supporting his shift, and he grins wickedly, announcing, "My turn."

His right hand roams slowly, exploring east and west, lavishing attention on each breast, his eyes fixed on her as if he's studying her; her nipples darken in color as her body responds to his touch, and she realizes that he is mapping her. Her every reaction – every arch of her spine, every shudder that slices through her, is being recorded, being filed away. Just like he has done every day within her presence, he is writing the words inside his head.

Writing her story. Their story.

Her hips flare, legs trembling as her knees fall wide onto the mattress, and she keens slowly as his hand finally reaches its ultimate goal. Her clit is barely brushed and she is already chasing his touch, lifting off the bed to collide into him.

He ignores her desperate need, her desire to speed this along, his palm pushing her down so that he can go back to the task at hand. Killing her slowly.

He finds a pattern, thrusting two fingers deep inside, before they painstakingly withdraw, circling her bundle of nerves, hard, twice, and then sliding his fingers again through the moisture that has been collecting between her thighs since he had entered the room with a glass of wine in each hand. Since he had first kissed her in front of the mirror, earlier this evening. Hell, if she is being honest with herself, since he had first leaned across the interrogation table to announce that she had gorgeous eyes.

The muscles of her stomach draw inward, her fingers clawing at the duvet above her head as she attempts to pull herself back from the edge, an edge he is rapidly taking her to.

She wants him inside her. She wants him inside her _now_.

Making their case succinctly, her hips extend high off the bed once more. Yet as his gaze drinks in the exquisite irritation that is no doubt expressed in every bite of her lip, the squeeze of her eyes, the gasp which escapes from her mouth, he ignores it all to keep going.

Shaking in frustration, her longing throbs through every inch of her, and she moves one hand between their bodies, taking the lead again. She grasps his length firmly, and the grunt that meets her stuttered pants lets her know she has been successful in getting his attention.

Working together, in sync as always, he sinks as she lifts, and finally, he enters, filling her completely. Her head pushes roughly against the mattress, the pressure building within her as he pauses before withdrawing slowly, and repeating the movement.

The room fills with muffled groans, their continued actions losing all finesse, and as her legs lift, feet interlocking above the curve of his rear, a heel finding leverage in the small of his back, it all becomes too much, her body unraveling .

She tenses internally, a shudder that tears through her body and it has him biting down on her shoulder in response, as he continues his intense pace, and she can do nothing but hold on as the tremors extend past their initial burst.

It's enough to force him over the brink, his hips losing all rhythm as he thrusts once more, quaking in her arms, before slumping heavily on top of her. His weight is welcomed, bringing her a much needed tie to earth. Her legs shake, drop bonelessly from his waist to fall to the bed and her hands loosen the tight grip she'd had on his shoulders.

"I'm too heavy."

She disregards his admonishment for a moment as she runs her fingers through the short hair on the back of his neck, yet he is already angling slightly, moving a shoulder and hip to bear most of his weight and she lets him, knows he won't settle until he is sure she is comfortable.

Of everything they have done together, for all that they have fought against; not just outside forces but their own internal struggle, this, _this _makes everything seem like nothing could ever go wrong again.

How right they are curled and sated in the shelter of each other's arms.

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I am very new when it comes to writing M, and would love to hear your thoughts and advice!

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Thank you so very much for the overwhelming response to this story, I pinch myself regularly to see if it's all a dream xoxo

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Thank you to Jo and Nic for the beta, and for the speedy nature that this chapter has come through! It means the world to me xoxo

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One more left!

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	10. Chapter 10

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**At home here**

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The overwhelming need to close her eyes, just for a second or two, is winning against her desire to stay awake and bask in the fact that she is sheltered within his protective arms as they lie entwined. Every part of them has become fused together. Sweat slickened skin has melted after the fire had burned with such an intensity her heart is still skipping every other beat. She's lost the ability to tell where she ends and he begins and if she is honest with herself, she doesn't care if she never gets it back. Being together - in his bed - in the loft, has become her new favorite place to be and when tomorrow comes and she has to leave, return to her newly roach-free apartment it will be with a heavy heart.

It amazes her how much can change in such a small amount of time. More than that, it amazes her that they've been fighting _this _for so long, and for what reason? What could have been more important than this moment right here?

"Beckett?"

"Mmmmm."

"Shhhhh. I can hear you thinking from here."

Kate chuckles softly, her tongue extending in order for her to run it across the skin of his chest. She's too sated to move her head but the path she blazes is decent enough that a shudder rocks his frame, a growl adding to the vibration of his body.

"Beckett?"

"Mmmmm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

He whispers his question as if he is afraid of her response, afraid that at any moment the haze of desire that fogs the room will lift, revealing… Regret? Distress? A need to flee? And she knows she needs to fix this, to let him know that they are lying in the rubble of her once fortified wall. The very soft, luxurious, thousand count thread, Egyptian cotton rubble. They may still have a bumpy road in front of them, but she hopes that whatever they face they will now be facing it together.

"I was thinking that my place is ready tomorrow, and that I have to go home, as much as I don't want to."

Both of his arms contract around her, and somehow, regardless of the fact that they are pressed tightly together, he draws her closer to him.

"I don't want you to leave."

His encompassing grip unexpectedly releases her, his fingers rising to his head as he runs them through his hair. Stress and concern suddenly rolls off him in waves and she reluctantly edges back, arching her neck so that she can see his face, get a read on what is going through that wonderful mind of his, yet already he is backpedalling.

"I didn't mean that. I mean. I did. But not like that. Not like never leaving. Although-"

"Castle?"

"Yes?"

"Breathe."

She waits for him then, feels him beneath her hand - it having found its place over his heart - and his ribs and lungs expand as he takes a deep breath. She doesn't understand where this sudden anxiety has come from. Is it at the thought of being left here with Meredith? Or the thought that once she leaves she will be the one doing the backpedalling?

"I have to go home, Castle and I'm sure you will be safe from all the red-heads. But… if it gets too much, you can come and stay at my place."

"Really? So this-" He pauses, looking at her hesitantly. "Are you my _girlfriend _now?"

Her nose crinkles in distaste at such a juvenile sounding label, the nails of her fingers, which had been lightly cutting random patterns across his skin, unintentionally dig into his flesh, the flat edges pressing down sharply as his question hits her. This is… _what_?

"I…we…" she stutters but nothing is forthcoming. What exactly are they now?

He lifts a hand, trapping her body wounding claws, softly encasing her within his warmth, his loving touch, and she feels a little more braver.

"You want this, right?" she murmurs, afraid to say it louder. "Us?"

Kate's on her back before she's even realized that Castle has moved, and he reveals a strength and speed that while always underneath the surface, is very rarely seen. He towers over her, his elbows and knees supporting his weight as he holds himself just high enough to prevent her from becoming squished but with enough pressure that her hips buck at the closeness.

"I have wanted us, for a very long time." His declaration has her equal parts terrified and amazed.

"What's stopped you then?"

His eyebrows collide as confusion etches its way across his face, and she attempts to clarify, "Do you ever wonder why it has taken us this long?"

"Why now? Not last week? Or last year?"

"Yeah, seems rather stupid of us now that we're on the other side. Our worlds collided and the earth is still spinning." Well, she is still spinning; she's just assuming that everything else is too.

His laughter shakes his body, his hips trembling against hers, and she arches up in retaliation.

"Sorry, I… just bad images. But seriously, I don't know. I don't know what changed? Hey, maybe it was Meredith?"

Her hand darts forward, ensnares a nipple between her fingers and she gives a sharp tug. Really, discussing your ex-wife while lying naked on top of your new girlfriend is just wrong.

"Ouch, app-"

"Oh, hush," she scolds, yet the next question leaves her mouth before she takes a second to really think about what she is asking. "Why did the two of you break up?"

"You really want me to answer that now?" He drops a fleeting kiss onto the tip of her nose, as she shakes her head _no _in reply. They do need to talk about these things, but now _really _isn't the time.

"Do you remember what you said when you came back from dinner? That nothing would change the man that I am?"

She nods this time, adding a quiet, "Yes."

"No-one outside Mother and Alexis has ever really pushed to discover if there was anything more. It's like I'm a book, and everyone has been happy to look at the cover and read the blurb, but no one has really cracked the spine open to peer inside."

She wiggles both of her hands up until she can cup his face, ensures that he is focused completely on her as she asks, "Can I read all the pages?"

His mouth slides over hers, his tongue vehemently seeking an entrance that she happily encourages, and she forgets for a moment that she had asked him anything at all as he clears her mind of all but how breathtaking it is to be in this position with him.

Gradually pulling back, his forehead resting heavily against hers, his nose sliding and nudging with a tenderness that leaves her whole body humming in happiness and he declares as if she should already know the answer.

"You're already halfway through the book, Kate."

* * *

**Ten months later**

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Sliding along the kitchen floor, Kate's socked feet offer no resistance as she heads toward the counter, grasping the edge at the last moment, and she holds on as Castle attempts to pull the pages from fingers.

"You can't read yet. I've still got the ending to write!"

"Give it up, Castle, I will either read it now, or I will sneak onto your computer tonight and read it then!"

He gasps dramatically, puts on an appearance of being shocked and horrified as he replies, "You would never invade my belongings like that?!"

She adds to the over-the-top flair, loudly snorting as she wiggles her rear into his bracketing hips and replies, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't the newly placed ring on my finger proclaim that what yours is now mine?"

His hands seem to forget about the manuscript as they sneak their way under her shirt, each one cupping a breast as he retaliates, "Mmmmm, I guess that means what yours is now mine too."

"Awwww, you two are so adorable." Martha's voice descends as she does. "Just wait until you are newlyweds, god help that counter."

Blushing Kate pushes his wandering hands out from under her shirt, stands as tall as she can given the circumstances, although the sight of Alexis peering from behind Martha, a slightly embarrassed grin on her features, leaves Kate fighting the urge to flee into the - _their _- bedroom.

Thankfully Castle's phone breaks the awkward moment, and she goes back to flipping through the pages as he answers the call, Martha and Alexis walking across the kitchen to join her; peering over her shoulder and she doesn't register Rick's words until Meredith's name is voiced.

Together all three of their heads snap up to look at him as he holds the phone to his ear, eyes widening as he listens to his ex-wife on the other end. Whatever she is saying, it is clearly not good news.

"You want to stay _here_?"

Alexis, Martha, and Kate, fiercely shake their heads as one, visibly announcing their opinion on the matter.

She is not staying with them!

"Ah… look…" He closes his eyes, and she has a sudden urge to pull the ring off her finger and throw it at him; maybe that will knock some sense into his thick skull.

"It's really nice that you're coming to town, Meredith, and I'm sure that Alexis will be looking forward to seeing you, but no. The loft is our home now, Kate's and mine, and I would prefer it if you stayed at a hotel."

Kate beams happily in his direction, Martha and Alexis with matching grins, as he finishes up his conversation without relenting into his ex-wife's demands and it makes her think of how they'd originally started on this path.

And she realizes just how far they have come, now that she is at home here.

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Complete

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So this is where I get all teary at ending a story, especially this one, which started off as a mixture of birthday fic/prompt and ficathon entry, and yet somehow it has blown apart all my expectations.

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Thank you to each and everyone that clicked the review button, you were the ones that smashed this out of the park, and it is you that had and continues to have me walking on cloud nine for days! Xoxo

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Thank you to those that have read, followed, and favourite-d, I hope you enjoyed.

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Thank you to Trish and Nic for helping out.

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Thank you to Jo, for everything, especially this past week when I realized I still had five chapters to write, which meant five chapters that needed editing. Xoxo

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Until next time! (which is like two days away for those reading Can't walk away ;-)

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Thank you!


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